


les inconvénients d’université pour les frères

by FlashFlashFlash



Series: plus d’enfants, plus de joie [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: College, M/M, Mpreg, birth partners, bronx is done with them all, bronx is really sweet actually, idk what else to tag, life decision, pregnant!patrick, these kids have pretty strong opinions about pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashFlashFlash/pseuds/FlashFlashFlash
Summary: “Why are you crying? It’s just a bunch of grey blobs, and it’s so.../gross/... Just, like, floating around inside-” Joey pulls a face. “And when it comes out it’s gonna be all sticky and screaming - there is nothing cute about babies or their foetal growth. That doesn’t even look like a baby!”“Pregnancy is beautiful! Momma’s growing life right now just like when he grew you, so don’t be so quick to get grossed out. You were once a bunch of grey blobs, and you came out and you were sticky and screaming, I was alive, I remember, and you sure as hell weren’t cute-“





	les inconvénients d’université pour les frères

**Author's Note:**

> Next update will be a prequel of Patrick finding out he’s pregnant, but then after that it should be linear... I actually tried to proofread this! Be proud of me, children! 
> 
> Aminta xx

“That’s... “ Joey shivers a little. “That’s kinda freaky, Momma...”

“Why are they all girls? I want a little brother!” 

“Don’t make me cry, Mom! Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, don’t look-“

“What’s this chaos?” Pete pokes his head around the door. His offspring, both fully functional and unborn, are compressed into a very small space on the sofa, Patrick holding a little black and white ultrasound picture at arm’s length as to reach over the top of the ‘children’. 

“My mascara is about to run!” Louie squeals and looks upwards, fanning her face desperately as her bottom lip trembles. “Mom’s making me cry!”

“Why are you crying? It’s just a bunch of grey blobs, and it’s so...   
/gross/... Just, like, floating around inside-” Joey pulls a face. “And when it comes out it’s gonna be all sticky and screaming - there is nothing cute about babies or their foetal growth. That doesn’t even look like a baby!”

“Pregnancy is beautiful! Momma’s growing life right now just like when he grew you, so don’t be so quick to get grossed out. You were once a bunch of grey blobs, and you came out and you were sticky and screaming, I was alive, I remember, and you sure as hell weren’t cute-“

“How on earth is that beautiful?” Louie makes to interject, but she’s cut off. Patrick sighs. “No, don’t interrupt me, being pregnant makes Mom sick, and achy, and it sounds awful, like, don’t even, that’s disgusting, why would you wanna have some little creature just, like, in you-“

“Josephine!” Patrick scolds half-heartedly. “You two have gotta stop fighting about this, it’s silly.” 

“She started it!” The sisters protest loudly as Joey unfurls herself from the group cuddle. 

“Yeah, alright, and now I’m sure you’re giving your mother a headache, so you’re both ending it,” Pete growls, but his tone lacks malice. “Joey is entitled to not get super hands on with this new baby, and the pregnancy and all that, but Louie is also allowed to be as excited as she wants to be, okay?”

“And don’t be so quick to call me disgusting!” Patrick grins at Pete, but he’s addressing Joey and her scrunched up nose. Joey huffs, and rolls her eyes. 

“Whatever,” she groans. “I’m going upstairs, I have chemistry homework or something.” She slunks off, pushing past Pete, the weak excuse weighing down her shoulders. 

“Is she getting moodier, or is it just me?” Bronx laughs from where he’s wedged between Patrick and his sister. “Honestly, I really hope that baby’s a boy.” 

“B, you already know it’s a girl, don’t get your hopes up.” Patrick scoffs, and rubs his belly. “I had bloods done, and my hormones are all out of whack for a boy, so I guess we’ll see when I hit twenty weeks, but don’t count on it.” 

“But seriously, I have three sisters already! Louie and Joey and Jagger, it’s like I can’t get away from them! I come here, and Ruby’s always here, too, and then I got to Mom’s and Jagger’s got all her friends over giggling and screeching all the time!” He gives Pete a hard stare. “Dad, you need to get better at making boy babies. It’s not like you’re incapable, I’m living proof.” 

“I’m not sure it works like that, dude,” Louie laughs, and slowly untangles herself from the heap. She lies back against the arm of the sofa, placing her feet in Bronx’s lap. 

“Yeah, well, it’s just a thought.” Bronx falls silent rather quickly. Louie pulls out her phone and begins texting - it’s probably Ruby. It’s usually Ruby. They rest quietly, listening to Joey messing around with an acoustic guitar upstairs and definitely not doing her chemistry homework. Pete notices Bronx looking a little downcast, his eyes fixed on the ultrasound picture that’s now resting in the coffee table, and his thumb rubbing circles on the warm fuzz of Louie’s slipper sock. It’s a nervous habit of his, a little sign that Pete looks for to know when to hold his little boy closest. He’s always felt a little selfish with Bronx, because, even though he sees Ashlee regularly, and Patrick dotes on him just as he does their girls, Bronx has always been Pete’s, just Pete’s. Pete’s perfect little boy with a fast pace brain and anxiety just like his own, belonging a little to his mother and to his step-father and to Patrick, but mostly to Pete, because ever since the divorce he’s promised every day to always be there. Bronx was his best man at his and Patrick’s wedding, the first to listen to ‘M A N I A’ in full and call it a hit, the person who helped Louie fend off the bullies with words and the boy who taught Joey how to play the cello. 

There is quiet, complete quiet, and then-

“Everything okay, buddy?”

Patrick beat him to it. Damn Patrick. Such a natural parent. 

“Yeah,” Bronx’s voice is shaking. 

“Lies,” Louie whispers, not looking up from a meme someone in her literature class sent her. 

“What’s wrong?” Patrick slides an arm over his shoulders. 

“I’m gonna miss the baby, and all the pregnancy stuff, and I’m barely gonna see you guys this year.” 

“That’s part of going to college,” Pete smiles. Finally, an upper hand over Patrick’s parenting knowledge! He can rattle on about college forever if he has to. “You miss stuff, but it’ll be worth it.” Bronx does not seem soothed. “You don’t have to miss anything you don’t want to, but you can trust us to deal with this. We’ll be okay on our own.” 

“Yeah, I know, I just... I wanna be there to see her when she’s really new, you know, before Joe and Andy, ‘cause she’s my sister, not theirs, and I can’t do that if I’m away at uni.”

“Are you sure this is about the baby?” Patrick asks, rubbing Bronx’s back carefully. There’s a long pause.

“No.” He swallows. “No, I’m not.”

—

“I want Bronx as my second birth partner.” Patrick says one night in late September, spooning with Pete in their bed, a strong pair of arms around his waist. 

“What about your mom?”

“I think Bronx will appreciate it more. Mom’s seen a lot of babies being born, cause she had us three, and she saw Meagan’s three, and one of my brother’s, and Louie and Joey. I don’t think she’d mind.”

“If it’s what you really want.” Pete rubs at the bump. 

“It’ll give him something to do now he’s not going to college, you know, midwife appointments, helping me get ready for the baby, painting the room and all that.” Patrick feels a few kisses being pressed into his neck. “I think it’ll be good for him,” he says faintly, his eyes fluttering shut with satisfaction as Pete begins to suck a hickey onto his shoulder. 

“Okay,” Pete breathes, coming up for air briefly. Patrick can’t stop thinking about how daunting the rest of his pregnancy seems, with Pete planning to work with DCD2 right up until the baby’s born, his three teenagers (well, Joey nearly counts, right?) to keep tabs on, and music to write, not to mention he’s forty-three now, which means he probably shouldn’t really be having another baby anyway. He’s scared of balancing the rest of his life on his bump, scared of what will come when he can’t get out of bed without Pete’s help, and scared of what the label will say if he can’t get those demos recorded before the baby gets too big and he can’t breathe in enough to sing.

Patrick’s scared. He’s scared, but, in the warmth of his bed, with Pete’s tongue on his skin, he doesn’t care.


End file.
